I Don't Have Friends
by atruesherlockian
Summary: John is a new student at Bart's. He tries to befriend the eccentric and bullied teenage Sherlock. Sherlock, however, doesn't think he can trust John with his heart. With Sherlock on a dangerous path of smoking, drugs, and self harm, can John still save the broken genius? My first teenlock fanfiction.
1. Chapter 1

**This is my teenlock fanfiction. The chapters will be short, but my updates may come quicker because it's summer and school's out. I hope you all review and enjoy. The first chapter is really quick but I wanted one just for the first time John sees him. R&R! **

The first time John saw him, he was being laughed at. It was a mean, hateful, spiteful laughter. The kind you never want to hear.

He was a strange boy. Tall, thin, curly black hair. His cheekbones were unusually high and he wore a coat and scarf over his clothing though it wasn't cold in the school. John found himself curious. The boy seemed exciting, dangerous. John didn't admit it to himself, but he thirsted for danger. Adventure. That was why his parents had sent him to this school after all.

The boy ignored the laughter. His eyes were focused on his mobile phone. John recognized the strategy. The boy was waiting for the bullies to get bored. It worked, and the laughing boys soon walked away with parting jeers.

As John walked towards the strange boy, he noticed a paper taped to his back. John could barely make out what was written on it- "Fuck me, I'm a faggot." He felt a surge of remorse for the boy.

Even when John stood immediately behind him, the boy still didn't look up.

"Uh...you have a kick me sign on your back," John muttered, red faced.

"No." The boy still didn't look up.

"What?"

"No. That's not what it says."

John simply stood there for a second.

" So...do you...want me to take it off for you?" John stammered, uncertain.

"Why?" The boy finally looked up at him, and John caught his breath. His eyes were a beautiful shade of blue-green, but they were so cold. Uninviting. Closed off.

"So they don't get the satisfaction." John answered.

"Do you honestly think that would help _anything?_" The boy said curtly, standing up and starting to walk out of the room.

"Wait! I don't even know your name!" John yelled after him.

The boy stopped for a moment and without turning around said, "Sherlock Holmes. But I daresay you would have learned it on your own soon enough."


	2. Chapter 2

**Thank you all for the wonderful reviews! I really appreciate them! Anyways, here's the next chapter!**

The second time John saw him, he was being taunted.

"Freak! Faggot! No one likes you! You are such a psychopath!" they said cruelly. Sherlock Holmes didn't respond. He simply sat there, fingers steepled under his chin, eyes closed. Detached.

"Leave him alone!" John yelled before he could stop himself. Sherlock's eyes flew open. One of the bullies looked at John with contempt.

"You must be new. Kid, you have to understand that around here, no one talks to Sherlock Holmes. He's a freak. A gay freak. No one likes him."

John stared him down. The bully was about to say something more, but the teacher chose that moment to walk in. All the kids took their seats and Sherlock closed his eyes again.

John sat down in the seat next to Sherlock.

"Why don't you say anything? When they call you a freak?" he asked.

"Because I am one. I'm different. I scare them. I'm a freak." Sherlock Holmes didn't open his eyes. "And I wouldn't sit there if I were you. It's social suicide."

"You're not a freak. And I will sit there. Because you need a friend."

"I don't have _friends."_ Sherlock spit out the word like it disgusted him.

"You must have at least one..." said John uncertainly.

"I. Don't. Have. Friends." he said it slowly, as if he were talking to an idiot.

"Well, then I will be your first." Sherlock finally opened his eyes and turned to look at John. Encouraged he went on. "I'm John-"

"Watson. Yes I know. You have a younger sister who is lesbian and an alcoholic. You own two small dogs with white fur, probably terriers. Your father is in the military and your mother is very absent-minded. You want to be in the military but you also want to be a doctor. So perhaps an army doctor. You moved here from a northern country, most likely because of a traumatic incident at your previous school," Sherlock said, getting up."And that's why they call me a freak. It scared them. And it scared you."

Sherlock simply walked out of class. The teacher sighed and rolled her eyes. And Sherlock Holmes was a long way down the hall before John recovered his wits enough to tell him how amazing that was.


	3. Chapter 3

** This chapter isn't very good at all, so I apologize. I mainly wanted to introduce some of the other characters. I want to thank you all for reviewing, especially madinalakesavedmylife for her continued support. Love you all!**

Sherlock didn't come to school the next day. As John took his solitary seat in the lunchroom, the bully from the day before waved him over to where he sat, surrounded by his group of friends.

He briefly considered ignoring the invitation. John had no desire to associate himself with someone who would bully a boy simply because he was different. The bully, however, waved even more insistently and John reluctantly rose, walking over to the table the boy was sitting at.

As John approached the bully motioned to an empty seat.

"Hello John. It is John, isn't it? My name is Anderson. This is Sally, Greg, Molly, and Irene. We want you to be our friend."

Whatever John had expected, it wasn't this. He brushed his blond hair out of his eyes, trying to think.

"What? Why?" he asked.

A dark-skinned girl- Sally, John remembered- explained. "Well you see, we're basically the most powerful kids here. You get on our good side, you have a good life. Good grades, good friends. You get on our bad side, you get bullied. School turns into a living hell. You're a good kid John. We'd like you on our side. You made a mishap yesterday, standing up for Sherlock Holmes. He's a freak. He doesn't want to be our friend. We are good people, however. You can change for the better. So you can be our friend. Just make sure you don't talk to Holmes."

John didn't like the way these kids sounded.

"I don't like the fact that you bully him. He never did anything bad to you."

"John, you don't know him. He can tell your whole life just by looking at you. It's freaky. He walks around like he owns the place, and he's obsessed with murders. it's annoying." Anderson interjected.

"I think it's fantastic. He's a genius, that's what. Now if you'll excuse me-" John started walking away, and Anderson stood angrily. John didn't know how he would be able to get out of this one.

However, the girl sitting at the end of the table spoke up. Her top was too low cut to be decent and she wore her dark hair in an elaborate updo.

"Darling, you don't want to be difficult. We'll give you time to think on it, won't we Anderson?"

"But Irene-" Anderson started.

"Oh no, no darling we will. But Johnny, remember, it's only because I like you. You're a handsome boy." She got up, sashaying over to him. "We will give you a few days. Now run along," she whispered into his ear, slipping a piece of paper into his hand. John turned his back on her and hurriedly walked away. When he had left the crowded cafeteria, he unfolded the note. Just as he suspected, a phone number. He crumpled the paper angrily, threw it in the trash, and with a slight limp set off to chemistry class.


	4. Chapter 4

** Here's some angst for you guys! This chapter was hard to write so any feedback would be appreciated! Reviews encourage me to write more so make sure to do that! Oh, and this chapter is the same day as the previous one, except from Sherlock's POV.**

Sherlock couldn't think. He paced his room smoking cigarette after cigarette. The room filled with a haze of smoke, yet still he paced.

John Watson's behavior didn't fit into any category. It confused him. Why would he be friendly?

He couldn't think straight. It scared him when that happened. His mind was his only reprieve and when even that wouldn't function properly...

Sherlock let out a strangled sort of sob. His stash of cigarettes was completely used up. Oh God, he couldn't breathe-

He rooted around in his drawer frantically until his hand fell on the object he was looking for. He took the blade and rolled up his sleeve. He made a cut, digging the blade into his skin, watching the blood run down his arm. With the pain came a beautiful numbness. John had to have been lying. A dare, possibly. That was all. He couldn't really care. No one cared.

Sherlock heard a door slam downstairs. He estimated he had about three minutes before Mycroft came looking for him.

He threw the blade in the closet and opened the window to clear the smoke. He would have to get more cigarettes later. Applying a quick bandage to his wrist, he rolled down his sleeve and stepped out of his room, closing the door behind him. Mycroft couldn't know that Sherlock still smoked.

He was pretending to work on an experiment in the lab when his brother finally came in. Three minutes later, exactly.

"Sherlock, mum will be gone for the next couple of weeks. I will be the only one here," Mycroft announced.

"Fine. Just keep out of my buisness, _brother dear._" Sherlock muttered.

Sighing, Mycroft left the room. Sherlock sat in his lab long afterwards, reveling in the sting of his cut wrist. Oh what a freak he was.


	5. Chapter 5

**Another chapter! Anyways, remember to review because those encourage me to post the next chapter! **

The lesson was about to start. Not that Sherlock cared. He sat in his customary seat in the back of the room, listening to his IPod.

Suddenly, John Watson plopped down in the neighboring chair. Sherlock decided to ignore him. Hopefully he would get bored and leave.

"Umm...hello..." Watson stumbled over his words. He was such an idiot. They were all idiots.

"What are you listening to?" Sherlock didn't even bother looking at John. "Sherlock? Can you hear me?'

He was so annoying. Sherlock decided that answering would at least stop the nagging.

"Bach's Sonata #3 for solo violin in G Minor." Sherlock said, making his voice monotone and emotionless.

"Umm...that's cool...I guess." John Watson was still acting like an idiot. "Class is starting."

"Obviously."

"Aren't you going to listen to the teacher?"

"I learned all this in third grade. Science is easy."

"Oh. Ok." John was quiet for a second. "About the other day...when you said all those things about me...it was-"

"Scary, I know. Freaky. Can you tease me later? I was having a good day." Sherlock turned away from the other boy.

"No! Sherlock, I was going to say that it was amazing. Really cool, actually."

Sherlock was stunned. No one had ever said that to him before. Ever. Why did Watson have to keep confusing him? Why would he say that? Why? He couldn't genuinely care. The teacher wasn't listening, so it wasn't for her benefit. He decided to stick to his original hypothesis- a dare. Anderson and his gang must have told Watson to befriend him and then play a prank on him. Something to that effect.

John was about to say something more to him but the teacher interrupted.

"John Hamish Watson! Have you heard a word I've said?"

"Sorry Mrs. Gruenberg. Won't happen again." John muttered.

"I'd better hope not. Now, as I was saying, we will be doing a group project. Now, John, I know you're new so I will pair you off with Sherlock because he already knows all of this."

Sherlock couldn't believe it.

"What?! I'm being forced to do this? I don't want a partner! I'll do extra. Please."

"I _know _you can do extra. I don't want you to. This will be good for you."

"No it won't!" Sherlock yelled, standing up. "I don't want to work with some idiot who I don't even know!"

"If you don't do this project, I will fail you. And failing will mean talking to Mycroft. I've already cut you too much slack," said Mrs. Gruenberg firmly.

Sherlock froze. Mycroft could not be told. If Mycroft was told, his mother would also find out.

"Does your husband know you're cheating on him for your maid?" Sherlock stalked out of the room, leaving both John and Mrs. Gruenberg flustered and red-faced.


	6. Chapter 6

**Thanks to everyone for reading! Apparently my story has almost 1500 views! Huzzah! Remember to review! Just a heads up- I won't be able to post at all in July, I won't have internet for 23 days. I may just die! Anyways, on with the meaningless transitional chapter.**

"Sherlock, you acted very rudely yesterday."

"I said the truth."

"Apologize to John for calling him an idiot."

John spoke up from the chair next to Sherlock.

"No, Mrs. Gruenberg, it's completely fine. Sherlock didn't really mean it. And I suppose everyone's an idiot compared to him." he smiled hesitantly at Sherlock, who kept his face impassive.

Mrs. Gruenberg sighed in annoyance.

"Do as you wish. Now Sherlock, you _will _work with John if you don't want Mycroft to know anything."

"Fine," Sherlock snapped.

"Now you left class _rather _early, so you will need to get the information needed from John before or after school," the teacher told them, standing up. "And Sherlock, I don't ever want to have to call you down here after class again. Or else. See you boys tomorrow."

The bell had rung ages ago, but Mrs. Gruenberg had insisted on talking to them after class to 'sort things out'. They had only been able to exit the school twenty minutes late.

"So Sherlock- do you want to come over to my place? Just to work on the project. I can tell you what we have to do and stuff. I'm sure my mum would be fine with it. Only if you want to, of course." John eyed Sherlock nervously.

"Yes, it would be practical. Let me just clear it up with Mycroft." As Sherlock began to punch numbers into his mobile, John hid a smile. He was finally making progress.

"Mycroft. I'm going to work on a project today at John Watson's house. It's a group project. No, I was forced to. Don't send anyone from the secret service. Stay out of my buisness. My life, brother dear. No need for a helicopter. You really shouldn't make jokes. Shut up. I don't know. Good_bye _Mycroft." Sherlock ended the call, turning to John who had been listening with great interest. "Mycroft says it's alright."

"Cool! We're going to have to walk though, we only have one car and my sister disappeared somewhere with it. It isn't far though-" John suddenly realized Sherlock wasn't listening at all, but was already walking in the right direction. John ran to catch up. "So you know where I live?"

"Not the exact address. But I do know the neighborhood, your clothing makes it plain." Sherlock stopped and turned to look at him. "You really shouldn't have invited me."

"Yes I should have. We can work on the project and I can get to know you better. Now, come on," John said firmly, starting to walk again.

"You don't want to," Sherlock mumbled.

"Huh?"

"You don't want to get to know me better."

"Yes I do, Sherlock. You're a genius and you're interesting. Don't even try to argue with me."

They were silent the rest of the way, each confused by the behavior of the other.


	7. Chapter 7

** Sherlock's visit to John's will take several chapters because John is learning a lot of things about Sherlock. I think it's a crucial point in this story, so I will write a lot about it. Anyways, please review! Even if it's to tell me that you hate my story, just tell me what to improve! Love you all!**

John's house was a small one with two floors. John could already see Sherlock making deductions about the people who lived there.

As they entered, John threw his school bag in the corner, motioning for Sherlock to do the same. He did, but didn't take off his coat or scarf.

"John! Darling, you're finally home! How was school?" John's mother bustled into the room. She turned and saw Sherlock. "Well, hello! Who's this, John?"

"He's my frie-" John started.

"We're simply working on a project for school. Sherlock Holmes, ma'am." He bowed slightly, and kept his eyes fixed on the floor when talking to her.

"Oh that's wonderful! Will you be staying for dinner?" Mrs. Watson looked at him anxiously.

"Anything that would be of convenience to you." Sherlock still didn't look at her.

"Well I would like that very much." Mrs. Watson was about to say something more but John took the opportunity to drag Sherlock towards the stairs. "Mum, Sherlock and I will be going upstairs to my room now!"

"Of course, darling." Mrs. Watson headed towards the kitchen.

As they climbed up the carpeted stairs, John wondered whether Sherlock would actually stay for dinner. It was bizarre to imagine Sherlock Holmes in his dining room, actually eating and making conversation. It was strange to discover that he had manners. He was usually so blunt and arrogant.

"Sherlock, why wouldn't you look at my mum? You were talking to her, but you never looked at her."

"Is that strange? My mother has always told me that I should never look at her directly. She says it's a sign of deference to my superiors."

John stared at him. "Yes it's bloody well _strange. _Are you sure this is your _mother _you're talking about?!"

Sherlock was immediately defensive. "Of course. She wants what's best for me. Just because it may seem freaky doesn't mean it's wrong!"

"Sorry, sorry. Don't listen to me, I'm just a bit surprised, that's all." John offered a reassuring smile.

"I am...sorry. Forgive me." John could already see Sherlock rebuilding the icy walls he had managed to get through and mentally cursed himself. This was going to be a difficult evening.


	8. Chapter 8

**Please make sure to review! This chapter is a little boring but I promise it will get better soon! :) Love you all!**

"So basically it's an end of the year project. We have to conduct an experiment that somehow relates to chemistry and then write a 600 word report. It's going to be worth more than half of our overall grade so we have to do a good job."

"All right. I'll do the work and you can just hang out with your friends and put your name on the paper." Sherlock leaned back in his chair. John, sitting on the bed, had been reading off the assignment sheet but at Sherlock's words he looked up.

"No, Sherlock. I won't learn anything. And besides, who am I supposed to hang out with? I have no other friends here yet. I just moved, remember?"

"But Anderson must have-"

"No. I refused to join his little gang."

John had confused Sherlock again. So it wasn't a dare. Why was he being friendly? Sherlock immediately found another solution- Mycroft. His brother must have asked John to spy on him to find out if Sherlock was secretly doing drugs in the bathroom. He chuckled to himself. If only Mycroft knew...

"Sherlock? Are you ok?"

"Of course I am. I was just thinking." Too much, in fact. "John do you have any cigarettes? I'll pay you."

_ "_You smoke?" John looked at the boy with concern.

"I obviously do. Why else would I be asking for cigarettes?" Sherlock sighed in annoyance.

"I don't have any. And smoking will only kill you faster."

"Good." Sherlock leaned back in his chair again, closing his eyes.

"Sherlock?"

"What now, John?"

"Won't you take off your coat?"

"No," Sherlock answered curtly.

"Why do you wear it all the time?"

"Must I explain every aspect of my life to you? I don't know you and I have no desire to. Alone is what I have. Alone protects me." He sprang up and started pacing the room. "I need a fag. I'm bored. Anything to occupy me. Do you have a lab? No, you don't. And no cigarettes either. What am I supposed to do?"

"Work on the project?" John just sat there calmly, not a care in the world. Sherlock wished John would understand that his mind was destroying itself.

"I'll work on it at home tonight. I can't right now, I can't concentrate."

"Umm...ok? Do you want to play a videogame?"

"Video games?"

"I have Black Ops and Halo..." John trailed off at the blank look on Sherlock's face. "Don't tell me you've never played a videogame before."

"No..."

"All right. Ok. Do you want to go for a walk?"

"Sure. If your mother won't mind. I need to do _something._"


	9. Chapter 9

** This is my last chapter for about a month or so, so please don't give me hate for not updating. I will update as soon as I have internet again, but meanwhile leave me some reviews! Oh and this story will become Johnlock in the future, so be forewarned. AND I wanted to say that I do not approve of smoking, though I do make it seem like a positive thing for Sherlock. That's all for now, and enjoy!**

They sat on a bench in the park. John's mum had reluctantly let them go, with a promise to be back in time for dinner.

"That bloke over there just came back from vacation, has two small children, and a sick mother."

"Brilliant! How did you know this time?"

"Tan line, shopping bag, trousers and watch. Obvious." Sherlock scanned the people passing by, and his eyes fell on another man standing with his wife. "Excellent. That man over there smokes."

Sherlock sprang up and headed over to him.

"Hello sir. Will you sell me a cigarette?" He asked, forcing a smile.

"You don't look old enough. Excuse me-"

Sherlock cut him off. "I would or I'll tell your wife what you did when you left on that buisness trip."

The man simply stared for a while. Then with shaking hands, he threw Sherlock the entire pack.

"Thank you sir. Have a nice time at the movies." Sherlock smirked and handed over a tenner, before sauntering back to John.

He sat back down, fumbling for a lighter. The glow from the small flame lit up his face for a brief moment, and John realized it was getting darker. Sherlock took a long drag on the cigarette, an expression of pure bliss on his face.

"We should head back and get started on the project."  
"Sherlock! The whole reason we came out here is because you said you couldn't concentrate enough to work on it!"

Sherlock simply waved the cigarette in the air.

"I needed to smoke. I was thinking too much, too fast. I needed to slow myself down. Drugs and murders and-" Sherlock cut himself off. "Drugs and murders are more effective, but there are no interesting cases and drugs are not available to me. So smoking it is. Now that I have cigarettes I can concentrate on what is at hand, namely the project."

He took another drag, blowing out a thin stream of smoke.

"You do drugs too? Do you realize this is going to kill you?"

"I just said I didn't have the means to procure them at the current moment, thanks to my _dear _brother. And as for it killing me, well, that's just a pleasant side-effect. Now come on!" Sherlock stood quickly, striding in the direction of John's house.


	10. Chapter 10

**I'm back everyone! I'm sorry you all had to wait so long for this chapter! Russia was a lot of fun. Okay so I got a few complaints about this story being Johnlock so I'll say that I ship what I ship. I know "Childhood of a Sociopath" is a pretty good non-Johnlock story, so I would recommend that. Please make sure to review. I haven't been getting as many in the past few chapters. If my story is getting worse tell me! But make sure to include specifics for me to improve. In this chapter you will find out about both of Sherlock's parents. Enjoy!**

It had started to drizzle. Sherlock turned up the collar of his coat and stubbed out the last cigarette in the pack. He had finished them all at an almost inhuman speed.

"You have something you want to ask me," he said, turning to look at the other boy.

"Well, yes. Are you-" John changed his mind abruptly. "What do your parents do for a living?"

"To the public, my mother is a lawyer, though sometimes her work isn't quite legal. She makes quite a bit of money. She's currently in New York. My brother holds a minor position in the British government. But when I say minor..." Sherlock trailed off.

"What about your dad? Does he work?"

"He's dead," Sherlock said coldly.

"Oh God, I'm sorry."

"I'm not. I'm glad he's dead."

"What? Sherlock, you don't really mean that. You don't." John was quiet for a moment. "Was it an accident?"

"Oh no- I think mum paid someone to kill him." Sherlock turned slightly towards John, as if to gauge his reaction.

"That is sick. First you say that you're glad he's dead. Just casually say that! He's your father, Sherlock. And then you say your own _mother_ killed him! What the fuck is going on? You're not telling me something. Again!"

"Are you done?"

John just stared straight ahead angrily.

"Would you like me to leave? Because I can arrange it."

He slowed down a bit, taking a deep breath. "No, I don't want you to leave. But I want you to explain."

"Oh it's not as if you don't already know."

"Please. Tell me. I need to understand." Sherlock shook his head and kept walking. John grabbed his sleeve, stopping him. "Please, Sherlock."

"Daddy was a drinker." Sherlock's voice was strangely emotionless. "On a good day it was six bottles, on a bad day it was ten. His record was thirteen. I know because one night I averaged it in my head. Then he would start the yelling. About 80% of it was directed at me, the other 20% at mother. He would yell for a long time, but then he'd always end up hitting us. Me and mother. Never Mycroft. He would hit mother first, but I never stopped him. Then he would hit me." John opened his mouth as if to say something, but Sherlock stopped him. "Let me finish. Anyways, one night he drank more and punched harder. I ended up in the hospital. Mother came to see me, and told me that he wouldn't be bothering us anymore. The next morning he was found dead. Tragic accident, they all say." He looked at John. "I don't want you to think I hate him for hitting me. I don't. I hate him for hitting mother. Not because I love her. I don't understand 'love'. But because she did nothing wrong."

John simply stared for a moment, trying to find the right words. "Jesus Sherlock- I'm sorry."

"No you're not. Why are you?"

"I got mad at you before I even knew the whole story. I was judging you without knowing everything."

"I don't mind. Everyone does it. I'm honestly past caring."

"Sherlock you can't just stop caring. Just like you can't stop loving. You can't give up on love," John told him.

"I already have." Sherlock turned away, increasing his pace to get away from the other boy. And in that moment John realized that he was a broken person.

And John would do his best to put him back together again.


	11. Chapter 11

**Thank you to those who reviewed- madinalakesavedmylife (she's amazing), poprocksrule99, Fantasia Sedai, and johnsarmylady. When I'm having a bad day, I just read over all the reviews for the story, and it makes me feel loved. I shall be starting school tomorrow, so updates may come less frequently. I am sorry. I already have most of the plot figured out. Sebastian and Moriarty will come in soon. There shall be MorMor and other things... All shall be revealed! Soon... Anyways. On with the chapter! Enjoy the meaningless fluff. R&R and enjoy the rest of your day. :3**

"Oh you're home already boys?"

"Yeah mum, we decided we should stop procrastinating and start on the project." John said. "It also started raining."

"All right. Well you boys still have some time before dinner." Mrs. Watson smiled at them.

"Sherlock, let me take your coat. I'll hang it up to dry."

Sherlock froze for a moment. John, seeing his discomfort, interjected. "No, mum, if he doesn't want to-"

"It's fine." He took off his coat and scarf, handing them to a confused Mrs. Watson. Then he turned and quickly climbed the stairs. John sighed, hung up his jacket, and headed up to his room slowly. Sherlock probably needed some privacy.

When John finally got there, Sherlock was on his laptop, looking up some strange chemicals.

"How did you guess the password?"

"It wasn't exactly Fort Knox, John. Anyways, I have a lab at home where I can do the experiment. You can help write the essay. Is that okay with you?"

"Sounds good! But I'd really rather do the experiment together. So...could I, could I come over to your house someday? No, sorry, I didn't mean to invite myself over or anything I just figured-"

"Shut up John, you're blathering." Sherlock looked at him with a sort of cool amusement. "We'll see. Now come here and look! There's so many different experiments we could try!" John leaned over to look at the screen. He could feel Sherlock's warmth through his shirt, and felt the overwhelming urge to touch him. Not sexually. Just to reassure himself that Sherlock was still there, alive and _human,_ somehow- John stopped himself. What the hell was he thinking? He was acting stupid.

"And look, the chloroform is on sale!"

Sherlock sounded giddy, almost like a child. His excitement was infectious.

"So is this what you do in your spare time? Conduct experiments?"

Sherlock was immediately defensive. "Yes...is there something wrong with that?!"

"Jesus, Sherlock. I was just asking. No need to rip my head off."

"Sorry."

"So why do you like it?"

"Because it's interesting. I'm always in control. If something happens, I know I caused it. Because there's only one possible outcome. Because I can take two entirely different things and create something new."

"You almost make it sound like fun when you say it like that. But I'm afraid I am a hopeless case. I never like science. Or math, for that matter."

"You were into poetry," said Sherlock, not taking his eyes away from the screen.

John rolled his eyes. "Another brilliant deduction of yours?"

Sherlock sighed and got up off the bed. He walked across the room and tapped a ribbon hanging on the wall. _Poetry Slam, Creativity, First Place. _John started to laugh, and he swore that he saw Sherlock smile slightly before his face once again became impassive and uninviting.


	12. Chapter 12

**It's actually quite embarrassing. I had everything figured out and now it's suddenly flown out of my head. I am almost ten chapters ahead, mind, but still. Is this what they call writer's block? I know what I **_**want**_** to happen, I don't know how to **_**make **_**it happen. The transitions are going awry. I suppose I fail at this too. Short, short, short chapter here, because I'm a loser. :P**

"Boys! Dinner is ready!"

"Coming mum!" John stood up and closed his laptop. "Come on Sherlock."

Sherlock, however, appeared to be deep in thought. He still sat cross-legged on the bed, staring blankly at the space where the screen had been.

"Sherlock?" John reached out to touch his shoulder, but the other boy jerked away. He withdrew his hand quickly. "Sorry. It's just me. My mum says dinner's ready."

"Oh." Sherlock's eyes finally focused on John. "What?"

"My mother says dinner is ready," John repeated patiently.

"Trivial," Sherlock muttered, but he unfolded his long legs and slid off the bed. John ignored him.

As they headed downstairs, Sherlock suddenly spoke. "The second time we saw each other, I made deductions about you. Do you remember?"

"Yes..."

"I said that you had two small dogs."

"You did? Yeah, I think I remember."

"I'm sorry. I was wrong. You don't have dogs, you have a large cat. I messed up."

"It's alright, Sherlock. Everything else was spot on." John smiled at him.

"I made a mistake."

"It's okay. Everyone does."

"No, John! You don't understand! It's what I do best, and I _messed up._" Sherlock looked frantic.

"Calm down, it's alright. It's all going to be okay. It doesn't matter to me. You can make as many mistakes as you want with me, I won't care. Okay?"

"Okay." Sherlock looked away. "I'm sorry. I overreacted."

"It's fine." John said quietly. "I'm always here if you need me."

"You don't mean anything you say, though. Don't say things you don't mean."

"No I-"

"Don't say anything."

"But-"

"No."

John fell into a reluctant silence. Sherlock took a deep breath, adjusted his sleeves, and entered the dining room.


	13. Chapter 13

**Review, review, review. I'm completely losing it. This chapter is the worst one I have ever written. My never-ending apologies.**

"Take a seat darling! What would you like?"

"Water, please."

"What about food?"

"I don't eat."

"Ever?"

"Only when my body necessitates it. My last meal was yesterday morning, and so I do not need food. Metabolism slows down the brain."

"Oh. Well, eat a salad at least! I mean, what will I tell your parents!"

"They're not home."

Mrs. Watson looked positively horror-struck. "You're home all alone?"

"No, Mycroft's there. Sometimes. He drops in sometimes to see how I'm doing."

"Myc-"

"My brother."

"Well, all right darling. But eat something anyways. I insist."

"Yes ma'am." Sherlock put a few spoonfuls of salad on his plate.

Mrs. Watson and John also sat down and put some food on their plates.

John's mum started out with the question that all parents ask.

"So Sherlock, what do your parents do for a living?"

"My mother is a lawyer, my brother holds a position in the British government, and my father used to be a businessman."

"Used to?" John caught her eye and shook his head almost imperceptibly.

"Yes," Sherlock said curtly.

"Ahem...well John's father is a soldier."

"Yes ma'am, I know. He's stationed in Afghanistan currently."

"John? Did you tell Sherlock? We agreed that-"

"I didn't tell him. Have some faith, mum." John smiled slightly. "Sherlock can see notice stuff and make observations from it."

Sherlock was playing with the napkin, looking bored. "It's deduction, John. Common sense."

"Oh honey, that's wonderful." Mrs. Watson looked at her son anxiously, trying to come up with something else to say. "Do you play any sports?"

"Not officially."

"But you do some unofficially?"

"Taekwondo, Karate, Jiu Jitsu, and boxing."

"Preparing for a fight?" Mrs. Watson laughed a little. Sherlock forced a smile that left his eyes cold.

The awkward questioning continued for the rest of dinner. Sherlock never even touched his food. When John and Mrs. Watson cleared their plates, he got up, scraped everything into the trashcan, washed his plate, and put it in the drying rack. He thanked John's mum for the wonderful dinner, who looked more than a little disoriented.

"I believe I should be going."

"I suppose! Well, it was a pleasure to have you over." Mrs. Watson retreated into the kitchen, leaving John and Sherlock out in the hallway together. Sherlock took out his mobile and sent a text.

John stood awkwardly for a moment, before speaking. "It was nice having you over. Do you want to hang out again some other day?"

"Perhaps."

"I would enjoy it! You're a great person, Sherlock!"

"Remember what I said- don't say things you don't mean..." He trailed off, his eyes widening slightly. John followed suit, and listened, but the only unusual thing was the sound of a helicopter flying over the house.

"John. When I called Mycroft- you remember, right?" John nodded. "Well, he offered to send a helicopter. I told him not to make jokes. He decided not to."

"So you mean-"

"That helicopter's for me. Explain to your mum." Sherlock cursed and grabbed his coat. "I'll kill him. I swear I will."

And Sherlock ran out the door, leaving John smiling to himself. Just like that, gone.


End file.
